


Living With Naoya

by Congee



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Gen, sorry for typos, still no beta reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congee/pseuds/Congee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you get a life where you live with a demon summoning programmer. <br/>Consists of small drabbles of the daily life with Naoya. Reader is portrayed as unisex and will remain that way throughout the drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s five a.m, and the first thing to awake to makes your almost drop your regular morning drink as you try to swallow it down properly. Its hard to, well, stomach what you see before your eyes in not a bad way, but rather just surprising that such an event could happen. You finally gulp loudly, clutching your chest and lose your breath as try to resist from a slight yelp of joy escaping your lips. And it works for around the next few minutes, it really does. But that feeling of happiness comes back to bite you right in the heart and you let out a little scream as you try to vigorously cover it up with another sip of your drink, using it as a shield to mask the feelings of excitement bubbling up inside of you. Its hard for you to get excited this easily; you can tell from how bored you are by other stereotypical things that society likes to make you do. You are not a person to show emotion, but this scene right before you says otherwise.

 

Naoya was hugging a pillow, specifically _your_ pillow as he slept on the floor mattress covered in blankets.

 

If this were anyone else, you wouldn’t be that ecstatic as you were now. If it were anyone else, you’d probably yank the fluffy thing away and teasingly say “mine”. But it was Naoya, the person never showed even the slightest interest in anything cute or being considerate for the matter. He was more of a sarcastic person with a lot high and might talk, always acting like he was one step closer than you. Which he was, you know that, but he always sounded so condescending doing it. Its never bothered you and if it did you wouldn’t be living with him, but sometimes it does just make you wonder if he was capable of anything remotely adorable. And he was, right here in front of you. You debate on whether or not to wake him up; you could take pictures instead and show it to him. You _could_ , but resolve yourself to resist that urge. Naoya would've hacked into your phone and probably delete it anyways.

 

So instead, you shake him awake slowly. You dislike the thought of him waking up at an ungodly hour and messing up his sleeping schedule again; you could deal with a cranky programmer in the mornings. It was better than an overworked programmer at night. You try and say something encouraging for mornings, but all that comes out is a plain old good morning. You hear him grumble slightly as he moves, _**still clinging on to your pillow and god damn is he cute-**_ until he finally opens his eyes to see you, holding your morning drink with your usual bed hair. He smirks tiredly. You raise an eyebrow in curiosity, wondering why hes so happy.

 

“You were absent last night, so I had to make due with this.” He said, and you wonder to yourself if this is even reality anymore. He had never been one to say anything too flashy of compliments, but those words just tore you into a billion shreds to never be put back together in such a good way. In so many good ways. This cute should be illegal.

 

You blush slightly and pet his hair to thank him, and he simply turns away and nods, still holding that same prideful smirk, as if he knew this would happen. He did know, didn’t he?

 

_**He just wanted to see you blush.** _

_** God damn it. ** _


	2. Finger Licking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner and finger licking. :3

Dinner.

You hate making it; you love eating the food right after, but the process sounds like a dread to you. You and Naoya take turns on who cooks when, but most of the time he just gets take out and places those styrofoam containers on the kotatsu for the both of you to eat. You, on the other hand, exert much more effort in trying to cook something edible. But, you hate making it regardless; the time spent on watching something fry or boil takes way too long. At least, that’s what you tell yourself so you don’t end up cooking too much for the programmer to eat. You have a desire to want him to eat everything you make so you know what his favourites were.

So far, you can’t really find any favourites of his.

Sushi. Yakisoba. Chicken. Curry. Chazuke. Udon.

You just don’t know, and you don’t want to ask him. He’ll probably respond to you with a rhetorical question that would make any other sane human furious. That’s how most things were with him when it came to you; he never said what he liked. Occasionally, you would get a pleased smile ( not that arrogant smirk ) at your efforts in trying to get him something that he enjoyed, but it wasn’t so obvious that you would notice right away. Why, you ask yourself sometimes, do you have to exert so much effort for one person? You’re struggling with how to choose a dinner choice for god’s sake. He probably would’ve been okay with just a simple and drabby meal.

And yet as you’re telling yourself that, you’ve been in the kitchen for nearly 6 hours, tasting and testing every small detail to know they were perfect. Through the steaming pot of the water boiling, you let out a loud sigh so he doesn’t hear you, leaning your head against the back of the cupboard with a small thud. Your legs hurt, your arms hurt, and most of all you’re not sure if you even did a good job. There are small cuts at the edge of your finger where you stupidly handled the knife wrong, and the sweat pouring down from your forehead from all the accumulated heat is making you want to take off your shirt. The work you had to do is still left undone, and you can only hope that you won’t fall asleep like last time while trying to get it finished.

You place the utensils accordingly, getting a bowl of rice for the both you and Naoya. You tell him that dinner is ready, and that if he doesn’t come eat in the next 15 minutes, you’ll summon one of your demons to hit him to get dinner. He laughs in the other room, and you smile internally at the successful joke threat.

You find him sitting across from you now, saying “Thank you for the meal” as he grabs the first form of morsel he’s had all day. The programmer had slept through most of the morning and afternoon, and even after awaking, you know he didn’t even bother trying to get a piece of fruit to eat. You find it fascinating how little he actually consumes; you eat far too much for your own good.

Grabbing a piece of food yourself, you find it immediately that he’s staring at your marked fingers intensely. He looks a bit confused, albeit more surprised than anything. Shit..you forgot that you had to hide them from him. You can feel your wrist being grabbed after you had placed your utensil down, his red eyes staring at the reddened cuts placed on your hands as you look away. There was no use hiding it now.

“I assume this was from your cooking endeavors?” He asks, and you nod accordingly, still unable to stare at his face. You’re embarrassed because you tried so hard, and also more embarrassed because now he’ll see how much you actually fucked up from trying so hard. _**He’s going to make fun of you, he’s going to laugh--**_

None of that happens though, and you can feel a sudden sting from your fingertips as you turn around and shit, he’s licking my fingers. At a loss for words, you can only stutter as your hand flinches from the saliva, whimpering as his tongue is rolling over your index finger and your middle one, and _fuck, my god, why is he--_

“A reward for you.” He says.

“...What.” You reply, looking at him bewildered and flushed.

He says he’s pleased by how you cooked, and that “Isn’t this what you wanted? I do remember you being rather excited when this scene of the manga you were reading came on.” and your mind is whizzing about from when that happened, and how did he manage to find out one of your kinks was finger licking. Why was his memory so good and yours was a floundering goldfish? Why, out of the people, did he have to embarrass you in random instances?

You just wanted to eat dinner, but now you’ll have to deal with him teasing about your embarrassment and how you actually didn’t remember that.

You hate him; You really hate how hard he makes you blush, and you hate how much he turns you into a blob of slosh unable to comprehend normal language anymore.


End file.
